


sip the wind through lips alive

by blackkat



Series: Rare Pair Drabbles [30]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Crushes, Developing Relationship, Humor, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-26
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-10-28 16:27:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20781590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/pseuds/blackkat
Summary: “You know, if you hide up here forever, someone’s likely to notice,” Asuma says.





	sip the wind through lips alive

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: Tobirama/Asuma anon again, Royalty AU? The Leaf King's younger brother and the younger child of a noble meet at a peace summit and bond over "thank fuck we aren't expected to run this circus".

“You know, if you hide up here forever, someone’s likely to notice,” Asuma says. 

The crown prince of Fire Country, heir apparent to his brother’s throne, necromancer and master of water magic, heavily decorated military commander and equally decorated academic, doesn’t even bother to open his eyes. Just scoffs, sprawled out on the roof of the tower like a lazy cat. 

“No one has yet,” Tobirama points out, and Asuma snorts, willing to give him that much. Not about to be deterred in his escape from his father’s entourage, he hauls himself the rest of the way up, settling next to a grinning gargoyle. He probably has at least a few hours before someone realizes his father’s best prop is nowhere to be seen and comes looking for him, and he intends to take advantage of the break. 

There’s a long beat of silence, and then a shift. “Most people are wary of the edge,” Tobirama says, less chastisement and more curiosity. When Asuma glances over, one foot braced against the edge of the roof, the other dangling off the side, Tobirama has his head cocked, gaze trained on Asuma like he’s a mystery.

Asuma raises a brow at him, then lifts a hand. A moment is all he needs to conjure the edge of a bound wind, the spirit within it curling into being as it washes around him. 

“If I fall, someone will catch me,” Asuma says mildly. 

Interest kindles, and Tobirama sits all the way up. “That was a pegasus wind,” he says, assessing. “I’ve heard they’re just as unruly as kelpies. You managed to tame one?”

Asuma grimaces, and even though it’s been a few years, the memory of getting flung off the top of a mountain as part of the spirit’s test still irks. “We came to an agreement,” he says dryly, and refuses to embellish the story, even if he’s been paying attention to Tobirama’s victories, military and otherwise, for years now. The bright, potential curl of embarrassment in his chest is too close, and Asuma isn’t Kakashi; he isn’t about to make a fool of himself in front of a pretty prince.

(Of course, Kakashi almost braining himself in front of the Uchiha delegation and the youngest war-prince in particular will never not be one of Asuma’s most beloved memories. Mostly for the amount of blackmail inherent in it, but still.)

“An agreement that it wouldn’t eat you?” Tobirama asks dryly. 

Asuma can’t help but toss a smirk at the prince. “It would stop tossing me off cliffs and I would let it eat whatever other winds it wanted,” he corrects, and Tobirama snorts. 

“Very much like a kelpie river, then,” he says, and the sweep of his eyes over Asuma feels like a touch in and of itself. Asuma’s a little too aware, a little to attuned, and when Tobirama’s gaze rests on his face he has to will himself not to look over. “You are from the Sarutobi family.”

It’s not a question, but Asuma inclines his head. “My sister is the heir,” he says, and Tobirama makes a sound of amusement, shifting forward to perch on the very edge with Asuma. 

“A blessing,” he says, wry. “Speaking from experience.”

Asuma blinks. Tips his head, considering, and— “You never wanted to be the king?” he asks. 

Tobirama’s grimace is deep and very, very obvious. “And have to deal with Madara? He almost set my brother on fire _twice_ yesterday, and they’re supposed to be friends.”

With a snort, Asuma leans against the gargoyle, watching the shapes move in the courtyard below. “At least he’s not 'friends' with King Hashirama the way my father is 'friends' with Danzo. At this point I think assassination attempts are how they show they care.”

Tobirama hums. “I certainly hope not, seeing as I walked in on my brother and Madara 'arguing'. There were flowers everywhere.”

Asuma pauses, not quite sure what to make of that beyond an immediate, visceral horror that’s equal parts curiosity. “Flowers, as in the kind Hashirama grows?” he asks cautiously.

The look Tobirama shoots him says everything. 

Grimacing, Asuma rubs his face, trying to get rid of the images. “Okay, no, Dad’s at least not like that with Danzo.” Refuses to consider any other _possibilities,_ even if his mind immediately pulls up possibilities, and shuts that line of thinking down immediately. “My sister can _have_ that circus. I’ll stick with the Guardians.”

There’s a moment of surprise, and then Tobirama looks at him again, sharp, intent. Asuma can’t help but look over, and—Tobirama is a handsome man, that’s easy to see. But like this, with interest on his face, with his whole body angled towards Asuma, it’s somehow twice as noticeable. Twice as alarming, and Asuma has to swallow down the urge to say something inappropriate. 

_If you keep looking at me like you want to strip me, I might just take you up on the offer._

“The Guardians,” Tobirama echoes, and smirks. “How intriguing. You’re a Master, then?”

“Two years now,” Asuma shoots back, because that was a challenge, and he more than earned his place among the Guardians, despite the weight his father’s name has. 

Tobirama glances at him, one last lingering look, and then turns his eyes on the castle below. “I have a training area in the forest,” he says. “Quite private. If you would like to spar.”

For a moment, Asuma just stares at him. Considers the offer, considers what it will _mean,_ because he’s going to have to fight the Senju prince in close quarters and lose and see first-hand just how capable Tobirama is, and—that likely won’t do his crush any favors. 

Then again, he’s going to get to fight Tobirama in close quarters. That’s fairly tempting already. 

“Private,” he repeats, and raises a brow at Tobirama. Means to add something like _What, you don’t want anyone to see you kick my ass_, but realizes half a second later how that sounded and only just manages not to blurt out an apology—

Tobirama snickers. Rolls to his feet, balanced on the edge without care, and gives Asuma a smirk. “Private,” he agrees, and offers Asuma a hand up. “It seems to me we may as well find a way to occupy ourselves out of sight until this madhouse has been dealt with.”

Well. It’s not an offer Asuma ever expected to get, and he eyes Tobirama’s expression, then his hand. Takes a breath, and reaches up, clasping Tobirama’s wrist. “In celebration of it not being our madhouse?” he asks dryly, and Tobirama laughs. 

“Perhaps we can add to the headache,” he offers. 

The prince having a fling with a Guardian? That’s probably pretty headache-inducing for Hiruzen and Hashirama both. Asuma chuckles, and lets Tobirama pull him to his feet. 

“I can’t wait,” he agrees. 


End file.
